Graceland
Royal Court Upstairs
“HOW did I let this happen?” is the critical line in Ava Wong Davies’s one-woman play, Graceland.
British Chinese twenty-something Nina (Sabrina Wu) is blaming herself for getting caught in a web of underhand abuse at the hands of a morose, minted poet — who we eventually learn is called Gabriel. Initially disguised as a classic boy-meets-girl scenario, Davies’s steadily unravelling script is a perceptive take on how class, wealth and power manifest themselves in contemporary relationships.
The initial burning sensation of their romance is palpable as we travel with them through drunken dinner parties, frolics in the sea and first meetings with the parents – with a particularly enjoyable scene where they eat in her mum and dad’s restaurant and the class divisions begin to subtly emerge as he describes a childhood visit to Hong Kong.
But it is with a single push that “the air changes” and a pattern of pernicious behaviour begins to take hold. The offers to pay for a new bed frame or transfers of hundreds of pounds combine with a tone of cold superiority to soon form an invisible trap from which Nina struggles to escape.
Wu delivers the monologue in a low key, conversational style throughout which allows the vibrant imagery of Wong’s text to flourish (although her American sounding accent is a little perplexing for a character born and bred in London like Nina). Directors Anna Himali Howard and Izzy Rabey resist any temptation to heighten the emotion and make a wise choice to stick with subtlety as we move through scenarios at breakneck speed.
Mydd Pharo’s intriguing, unplaceable design, with its childlike single bed on a square platform surrounded by mounds of patchy turf, is visually arresting but attempts to synchronise it with the text feel forced at points. The same can’t be said for Anna Clock’s sound design, with some antagonising double bass plucks and scrapes providing a suitable soundtrack.
There is a lot to like here but as Graceland (there’s one brief reference to Paul Simon) reaches a hasty and oddly sentimental conclusion after around 70 minutes, you cannot help but feel that a little more depth is required for this to make a truly memorable evening.
Runs until March 11 2023. Box Office: 020 7565 5000, royalcourttheatre.com